Beyond, With a Yokai

Chapter 3: Enemy and Ally

"Congratulations," he said dryly. "You've been saved. Not that it'll last. I'd suggest you have a serious talk with that foul little tongue of yours before it gets you into real trouble."

He leaned down, voice dropping lower—firmer.

"I'll ask you one more time. Did you remember anything?"

She forced herself to breathe. Her voice came out hoarse.

"I already told you..."

And then something cracked open.

A wall in her mind shattered—something invisible, blocking her memories. Fragments rushed forward, blurry but real.

She could finally piece together what had happened after the fall.

"I... I saw a woman. Long black hair," she said slowly, the words dragging from her like they weighed a hundred pounds.

The fox's expression shifted. He tensed, eyes sharpening with sudden focus.

"She looked... surprised to see me. I think she reached for me. And then... I stood up. After that, you know the rest."No matter how stubborn, how angry she'd been... staring death in the face changed her.

She didn't want to die.

God, how she didn't want to die.

The moment death reached for her, she heard her mother cry. Maybe it was just a trick of the mind—some desperate illusion born of longing—but it tore her apart.

And now? Now her parents were living that nightmare.

They sent her to this camp... thinking it was safe.

If she could just find someone—anyone—who would help her get back...

She'd do anything.

Anything.

But one thing was painfully clear—this fox wasn't going to help her.

"That's it?" he asked flatly.

"Yes! What, didn't get enough of killing me the first time?" Her voice cracked.

"Please. I wasn't even trying," he sneered.

The smug look on his face made her want to scream.

How could she have ever thought there was a chance of friendship with this... thing?

Without another word, Yesenia pushed herself off the floor and bolted out of the house.

The world had shifted again.

Yesenia now stood in the middle of an empty field that stretched endlessly in every direction, like a bottomless void rimmed with distant, blurred hints of a horizon. The ground beneath her was cracked and bone-dry, as if life had long since fled from this place. A few withered blades of grass poked through the soil—burned, brittle, like relics of a forgotten past.

The air was thick and strangely still, as if the world itself was holding its breath. Overhead, the sky was a washed-out blue-gray, sunless yet glowing faintly with diffused light. Somewhere in the distance, indistinct shapes—hills or trees—wavered like a mirage, never quite coming into focus.

Everything was silent.

Painfully, oppressively silent. The kind of silence that presses in on your ears and claws its way under your skin. Each of her steps was met with the crunch of brittle grass and the dull crackle of dry earth. A cold breeze brushed against her skin—light, but tense, like an invisible hand skimming across her cheek.